the Shattering Silences
by Flightofjayy
Summary: He knew he was a cat, once. It had only been several months since he became a cat, hadn't it? So why did being one feel so weird? OWL is a shape-shifter. He hasn't transformed in what seems like eons, but it had only been several months, and now he's not quite sure how to act with four paws. (Hey, it DOES get better at the end. reviews appreciated! :))
1. Silence - PROLOGUE

A silhouette, a trick of the light, stands still as stone, an absence of the fluttering silver starlight. He seems an object, though his body is evidently able to move as it will; but how could it be a person, for two long- well, all they could be described as were abnormalities, as wings. Huge feathers, long as an arm, only ruffled quietly, and it was the only telling of his being alive. His chest scarcely rose, scarcely fell.

And then he moved.

It wasn't life-changing, for those who saw him could have sworn he never moved at all, such were his movements. And then he was off- yes, the wings worked, and it was the first time they had done so in what had seemed eons. He was gone, still barely moving but for his wings, flapping every few seconds or so. It was then the moonlight caught him in its silent trap; the wings, thought black, shone with thousands of tawny feathers, his hair shining white and his eyes flashing a gently-coloured blue.

"Hello?"

His voice had evidently not been used, and yet it was still smooth as the sky, unweathered by the moons, the years he had obviously been standing there, a statue of the stands.

"Is anyone there?"

It warbled across the large stone court, calling, calling.

No, nobody heard, for the tawny-winged boy was alone, and so he landed less than gracefully, and the mirage was broken. He stumbled after a sharp exhalation of air and the wind let out a pitiful cry, whistling past his ears. His face contoured into a scowl and he pulled his icy gaze over it. No, I'm alone. He should have been relieved, and yet… His big entrance had been for nothing.

His eyes rolling, he continued swiftly, his step bounding and long, and bent down until his hands aided his careful continuation forward. Time seemed to slow as his body shortened and strange, coarse cream-patterned hair grew around his changing body. His nose grew forward and a long tail peeked from beneath his pants, and then there was a sudden silence, ringing as the wind pushed around the creature.

It was a small cat, patterned with strange markings, sitting with a meek glint in his eyes and his figure still as stone.

"I'm coming," he meowed, his voice weathered in this new form.

"I'm coming," he repeated again, and let his white-tipped paws slide from under him as his small body collapsed.

ALLEGIANCES

RiverClan

LEADER:

Hazestar: a long-furred brown she-cat with stunning gray-and-blue eyes.

DEPUTY:

Vixenbreath: A red-and-black pointed she-cat with wide green eyes and long black socks.

MEDICINE CATS:

Brokensight: A fluffy brown tom with blue-and-yellow eyes and a long scar running down the yellow one.

Moonwhisker: Gray-blue tom with black ears and tail and blue eyes.

WARRIORS:

Beegaze: Black she-cat with ginger rings around tail and amber eyes.

Whisperstripe: White tom with blue eyes.

Salmonjaw: Red she-cat with green eyes and a scar down her chin.

Mottledeyes: Mottled she with multi-coloured eyes.

Shadeleap: Black-and-gray striped tom.

Swanfur: Calico she-act with amber eyes.

Larktail: Red tom with golden eyes.

Woodenfoot: Brown tom with gray eyes.

Tearclaw: Silver tom with blue eyes

APPRENTICES:

Pidgeonpaw: Cream-and-white tom with amber eyes.

Driftpaw: Brown she-cat with green eyes.

QUEENS/KITS:

Streamstone: Gray she-cat. Expecting.

ELDERS:

Halfstripe: Black tom with a scar cutting off a stripe running down his back.


	2. Silence - CHAPTER1

The owl-boy woke with an uncomfortable start, his body thrust into the moss-woven nest less then gently. He took the moment to take note of his surroundings; an almost unbearable tang of plant wrinkled his pink-and-gray nose and beyond that he could smell sky, perhaps through an opening of the inclosed space. It must be their doctor-den, he reasoned, keeping his eyelids blocking out the light of the sun. Further he stretched his senses, scenting cats, many cats; one right in front of him. He ignored it.

RiverClan.

Yes, that was it. He could smell the fresh water meeting the familiar sharpness of salt, and feel the sand beneath the nest he had been "so carefully" thrown into. He had reached it, finally, and so he opened his eyes carefully and found himself staring into two green eyes, reflecting his weakened body in their ebony pupils.

"Come on," he groaned, rolling his own honey-coloured eyes and pushing her face away with sheathed white paws. The greens narrowed in mock offence and the brown face pulled away.

"You didn't get scared," it complained, and he realised it was a she-cat due to the sweet high-pitched voice. "I waited aaaages," it continued, "and you didn't wake up, and when you did, you didn't even flinch."

He rolled his eyes and sat up, his mouth dry for lack of water. His paws protested but he ignored the pain and stayed in his position.

"That's your fault, honey," he rumbled, his voice betraying his need for fluid. He shook it off and tried again, running his pink tongue over his battered yellow teeth. "You weren't very scary," and then, as an afterthought, "I need water."

The brown she-cat didn't seem pleased that she was being ordered around and let out a huff, her nose wrinkling as she stared at him.

"I still don't know your name," she hinted.

"I know," he returned, his voice gruff as he stared at her and tried to weigh her in. "Definitely a student," he muttered beneath his breath, and that merely piqued her interest more.

"Pleeease?" She begged, her maw contourting into a pout.

"No," the response drawled, and the owl-boy narrowed his sunlit eyes.

"I'll tell you mine," she offered.

"No," came the reply again, monotoned and uninterested.

"Come on," she whimpered, cocking her head almost too sweetly to resist.

Almost.

The tawny cat muttered something about "Idiot kids," and she groaned and turned away, trotting out of the den.

The shadows wrapped comforting around the boy and he settled back into his nest, his chest demanding water and food with constant rumbles and growls.

"She won't give up, you know," a voice declared from the back of the den, deep and yet coated with laughter. "Driftpaw's a stubborn little apprentice."

The cat grinned. "I know," he said for what seemed the thousandth time. "Shereminds me of an old friend."

"You do need to tell us your name," the voice added, "Or Hazestar won't let you stay."

"Show yourself first," was the demand, and a dusky brown tom stepped from the sides of the shadow-ridden den. His eyes met the young cat, bicoloured and reflected in the little light there was with his pupils almost not there.

The tawny boy rolled his eyes and scowled, a different face from his previous stance, and slumped back into the nest. "My name is Beat of Fractured Wings, or Sight, or River, or Cai. Depends on who you are."

He paused for a moment, evidently thinking hard.

"But you? You can call me Owl."


	3. Silence - CHAPTER2

"Owl?" The boy heard Driftpaw strut into the den, her tail held high above the ground. He sat up, wrapping his tail around his paws, and surveyed her in the new light of the morning.

"Stupid Hazestar said I had to look after you, all because of some stupid thing with a stupid kit."

Owl noted that she sounded quite childish, repeating the word "Stupid," beneath his breath with unemitted laughter dancing around his tongue. "Then get me food and water," he commanded, grinning a lopsided smile at her look of dislike.

The tom from before, who had introduced himself as Brokengaze, chucked thickly. His eyes twinkled and Owl met his gaze with his own eyes mirroring the laughter.

"First Hazestar wants to speak to you," Driftpaw spat.

Owl raised his eyebrows (Eyebrows? Did cats have those?) and shot her an inquisitive glance, pointed with millions of unspoken questions.

"You can ask her," she sulked, stepping backward out of the den. A long-furred she-cat entered the den with her brown tail behind her. Owl's first response was a sense of great power radiating from the cat, who stared straight at him with large eyes.

"Owl," she sang loftily, "We need answers about you if you are to stay."

"Ask away," he invited, squaring his shoulders as he stared her in the eyes.

This seemed to unnerve her.

"O-okay," she stammered, recovering to her power-stance quickly. "Where are you from?"

"Australia," he answered easily, his ears pricked. "Near Uluru, to be exact. It's very far away."

She glanced at him, evidently unbelieving of his words, but continued.

"Who were your parents?"

This question surprised him, but he answered, "Howl of Morning Wolf and Golden-eyes," without much hesitation.

"How old are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me." This answer was quicker then the rest, shielded with uneasy tension.

"Tell me."

"Thirteen."

Her eyes sparked with curiosity, and she queried quietly, "Thirteen moons?"

"Sure," was the reply, and Owl was again at ease in the situation.

"Do you come from a tribe?" Hazestar asked now, her ear to his right twitching impatiently.

"Sort of. You wouldn't know it," he snapped, surprised at himself for the brisk reply.

The leader shrugged (The cats here can shrug? Strange, but sure..) and turned away from the den. "I'll be watching," she warned, and slunk out of the den.

"I need food," he called after her, his eyes less then warm.

She stormed out of the den bad-naturedly - as Owl put it - and returned shortly afterward with a gray mouse hanging in her jaws.

Owl felt his stomach twist with disgust and he struggled not to retch at the fresh blood trickling down it's broken body. A swamp of sympathy overwhelmed him.

"Don't you have something else?"

Hazestar rolled her eyes but motioned to a shallow dip in the ground laden with dead creatures and staining the ground scarlet. Owl stiffened.

"I have to go," he stated, and felt himself standing. Without a glance back he bolted, leaving the clan staring after his flicking cream-and-white tail and murmuring suspicious words.

"Dead animals," he spat, slowing once he crossed the invisible line of the border. "Of course they eat dead animals." He closed his eyes for a split-second, the image of the creatures indented behind his eyelids, and breathed deeply to force his heart to slow from it's irregular beating.

"It had to be dead animals," he repeated again.

Owl felt his chest heaving uncomfortably, in and out, in and out.

He forced it to stop.

It was a dead rat, his head reasoned, just one! You've seen worse!

He sighed, his exhalation long and silent.

"You're fine," he commented aloud in a different tongue, strange and gibberish-sounding. "You can forget about one stupid rat."

A voice caught him from behind, fearful and dangerously quiet.

"Was that Silent-speak..? Racan?"

(Pronounced Ree-san)

Owl rolled his twin yellow eyes.

"Yes," he admitted, "It was."

 **WHOO, I finally uploaded it! After the what-seemed-like ages 12-hour wait.  
Enjoy!**


	4. Silence - CHAPTER3

**To Snowcrystal of ThunderClan: Thank you so much! His backstory will be revealed later on.**

The boy returned to camp a short time later, his unsheathed claws clicking on the stone beneath his snow-white feet. He pulled himself ahead, trying to rid the metallic taste of- no. He had to forget! He muttered something inaudible beneath his breath and flattened his two tawny ears, slinking sulkily forward. His shoulders hunched to the ground with quiet tension.

"Owl!"

He cringed at the voice and spun around to meet Driftpaw, those same green eyes piercing through his body as he flinched away. Her eyes were sharp with questions and he shook his head, facing away from her cool stare as he slipped from the place his paws had indented.

"I did nothing," he spat, quick to shield his honey-coloured gaze with flames of anger.

Driftpaw surveyed him with a disbelieving stare but turned away, her tail lashing. "Sure," she commented wryly, "You were doing nothing."

Owl turned away, his gaze flashing in anger. "I wasn't," he started to say, but Driftpaw cut him off with a low snarl. The tom began to regather himself but he bit back a sharp retort as her growls coiled into a word, one that he once new the meaning of but now sounded strange to his sharp ears.

"Twolegs."

Owl cocked his head until the sent reached his under-sensitive nose - it was the subtle scent of home. She means humans! He told himself in his head, almost laughing aloud until she shut him up with a pointed glare. Without moving her eyes she motioned to where the sound of a truck rumbled through the silent air, muting everything around him with it's loud growling.

The meaning was clear and he swallowed nervously, acknowledging the statement.

They'll take us away.

The owl-boy stiffened and nodded quickly. "Get out of here," he warned, and Driftpaw leapt away with flying legs. With one twitch of her tail she was gone, disappeared into the leafy green bushes behind him. Some help she was, he reflected, rolling his eyes. He disappeared himself into the town - the twolegplace - and sheltered behind a large red bin. His body began to grow and lengthen and he stood there awhile later as his beginning form, save the wings.

His shoulder-length, messy white hair was tauntingly familiar and the long limbs more comfortable then he cared to remember as he struggled to keep his mind on his end goal. "Driftpaw," he muttered aloud, and stood up before a wave of dizziness swept him until he stood on his hands and knees. His grin did not move.

"Too long," he told himself, and tried again until he was able to manage a rather wobbly walk with his legs throwing out.

He made his way to the end of the alleyway without too much falling, albeit a new long graze on the inside of his arm and a scrape running down his knee.

"I need to go to the forest," he said in human-tongue - Did they speak english here? - and trotted down the winding streets until he reached a large, weathered blue sign claiming the park a nature reserve. "Some place to settle," he chuckled, tracing his finger along the long, curved words before continuing. Before long voices reached his ears and he stared at the humans, all clad in uniform.

"From the pound," he realised out loud before walking again forward. He looked young, he knew, perhaps only thirteen or fourteen, but maybe he could-

"Sir?"

 **Before you click away, OCs are open! So please feel free to review with an OC that you want to be put into the story :)**

 **All clans are open, as well as loners/rogues/humans/people in Owl's backstory. Thanks!**

 **-Jay**


	5. Silence - CHAPTER4

"Sir, what are you doing here?"

Owl winced and turned around, eyes nervous as they met the tall blues of a uniform. The man, perhaps six feet, glared at him with hatred the boy could not place. "Is this private property?" he fired, despite his trembling knees.

The officer narrowed his chocolate-brown eyes in anger. "Get, kid," he began, but Owl ignored him and turned back to watch the humans try catch the feral cats. his eyes focused in concentration as he noted their movements, clumsy and short. He took a step forward before he was pulled jerkily back by the collar of his ragged green shirt.

"Come _on,"_ Owl snarled, whipping around to stare the officer in the eyes. His own honeys travelled down to meet the name of the blue-shirted man. _Keith,_ it read, inscribed in false-cheery writing. He blinked for a split-second longer then usual and inhaled deeply.

"Look, Keith," the boy growled, his voice low with distaste as he spat out the name as if it were a piece of prey, "I have something to do. So if you wouldn't mind.." He ducked and bolted past the guard and ran toward the captors, his ears straining to hear the reaction.

 _Nothing. Good._

His voice slit the air before he finished his thought and he watched nervously as they turned slowly, obviously surprised at this child standing behind him.

"What're you doing?"

They exchanged glances before one looked at him. "There are cats here," he announced, righting the collar uncomfortably with his gaze fixed just short of the boy's eyes. "We're taking them out so they don't harm the wildlife."

 _How much do they know?_ Owl blinked slowly, his mind wandering about the forest. _Do they know of the clans?_ Instead he asked, "How many are there," appearing carefully careless in the question.

"Perhaps ten," an officer replied shortly, still fidgeting with the buttons. "Maybe more."

Human-owl smirked, relaying the information to his mind. "Aren't they nocturnal?" He pushed, "More likely to be out at night?"

The officers looked around again, startled by his knowledge. Nevertheless, before one picked up an answer, Owl had seemingly vanished, merely two large footprints remaining, imprinted in the dusty floor. His voice split the air.

"Are you going to kill them?"

If the officer was uncomfortable before, it was scarcely so compared to now. Each one muttered gibberish about how it was for the best, but Owl couldn't hear them.

The clearing flashed with scarlet and he dived from the trees, a long knife clutched in his hands. The officers whipped around, their eyes large at the sight of the boy.

No longer did he look thirteen, nor human, as much as they denied it. No, he was definitely a best- long tawny fur coated his body and his eyes flashed amber - he looked almost like a...

[[TIMESKIP - NEXT DAY]]

Owl padded sullenly into camp, his paws dragging behind him. Without lifting his head he made his way to the nearest den, a large gray stone hollowed out and draped with long ivy. His pawsteps seemed long and dreary and his eyes fixed on the rhythmical movement of the paws, keeping in time with his slow heart-beat.

 _One-two._

 _One-two._

He let out a long-held breath and entered the medicine den, his chest heavy as he collapsed again into his nest. A voice called to him - Driftpaw, he scorned, - but he could not bring himself to lift his head to reply. His eyes closed and he fell into a restless sleep.

 _His dreams were plagued with darkness and scarlet blood, muted screams pushing on his mind and rivers of bodies rushing dizzily past him. Voices, hushed and whispering, told of killing, lots of killing, and yet one stood out among the rest, tight and short._

 _"Many bodies, many voices, silenced skies and angry choices. Watch the light as it fades to darkness, watch the light as you become sightless..."_

 _ **Yes, yes, it's short. I had almost no time.**_

 _ **I'M SORRY**_

 _ **lmao**_


	6. Silence - CHAPTER5

Owl woke with a dull thudding in his head, calling a rumbling groan from deep in his throat. The scent of blood was overwhelming, lingering sickeningly from his dream, the words whispering through the air around him, repeating and repeating with no end.

His ears flattened against the sound, trembling against the rough morning air. "No," he croaked, "That's over."

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, strange to be used and curled against his teeth. He knew it couldn't have been more then a night of restless sleep, and yet it felt like more, far more.

"Are you okay?"

He stiffened, the fur rising around his neck fearfully. His eyes opened quickly, sharp against the darkness - why was it so dark? - and he turned painfully to find the sound. It was nowhere, and the darkness was suffocating, thick around him as it wrapped claws to keep him in place. His head lifted again and he met two gray-blue eyes, staring straight at him. He flinched away from the stare, cowardly fear sending butterflies flying throughout his stomach as it curled fearfully. He brought his eyes up again.

"Hello?"

There it was, that voice again, and he shut his eyes again, tightly so that no light trickle through the thin lids above them. "I'm fine," he breathed lowly, "I'm fine."

"No," the voice demanded, "You're not. You don't look fine."

He sighed, letting bare confidence seep into his gruff tone before replying. "Who are you?" His voice sounded rough again, cold and blunt and pained.

"I'm Bluefeather," the voice insisted, and the eyes turned away with a flash in the barrenness of light. "And you?"

Owl scowled, his eyes narrowing as he began to get a feel of himself and grow into his body. "Where am I?" He tried, ignoring the question directed at him.

The cat sighed, a strangely happy sound. "Your name first."

"No," the boy pushed irritatedly, "Where I am!"

Bluefeather smirked, her happiness feeling like sandpaper against Owl's spirit. She cocked her head. "I can do this for as long as I want," she sang.

They danced the words on their tongues until the darkness fell away, slowly at first and then all at once. Owl watched the sky turn pink through a crumbling hole in the roof, too high to reach and yet so far from the sky. The clouds bleached the sky slowly, their snowy white colour taking the pinks and purples and yellows from the sky until all that remained was a quiet blue sky.

"Name," the cat pushed, pulling Owl forcibly back to the reality he had tried so hard to escape.

"No," he spat, "And that's final."

"Fine, mystery-cat," Bluefeather said in mock defeatedness. "You're in ThunderClan."


	7. in the year of our lord 2k19

**wOAH I guess this was a thing? I'm,, in shock over how bad this is, but also, my writing style has changed. so little.**

 **I actually made the shapeshifter a species, and I sort of really want to continue this, even though I haven't read any warriors in ages. (I re-read the story so far, and,,, I gotta be honest, I don't really remember his name).**

 **Can't believe I got a review in** ** _may last year._** **I mean. wow lmao**

 **also, not going to fix this in the story, but there's no** ** _way_** **this Elliott knock-off is thirteen. (The original plan might have been thirteen thousand,, I dunno) I'm changing it to thirty, but because the species I made can shapeshift into younger or less hurt people, they live longer so I still imagine him to be roughly fifteen.**

Owl flexed his paws uncomfortably, frowning. "I remember ending up somewhere else," he said, almost accusatory, trying _so hard_ to block out the loudness of his hearbeat in his ears. "You wouldn't have anything to say about that, would you?" His tail twitched slightly and, as if it had meant something, he glanced at her triumphantly before sobering. "Why am I here, Bluefeather?"

Bluefeather, at least, had the decency to look chastened; one of her clay-blue ears pinned against her head. "We found you," she said, almost defensively. "On the RiverClan border. Wrenstar said we should take you in, because if RiverClan found you, they would-"

Owl's lip curled - he knew _exactly_ where this was going. "Treat me kindly, if giving me a dead rat to eat," he broke in, sitting up. He met her gray eyes challengingly, and tilted his head slightly like he was daring her to continue. Their conversation was getting him nowhere, and even though he enjoyed debating, Bluefeather sounded like a song on repeat, and she could only come up with three things to say, and that was _so boring._

"I guess," he said, leading the conversation away, "I owe you my name." She waited, and he drunk in the tension in the air with a big breath, hoping against hope that she'd tell him that it was okay, and that he didn't need to say it, because it burned his throat each time he said it, almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy. He held the moment, looking around the den, before breaking into a grin that felt fake and wobbly on his maw. "Kidding. You can call me Owl."

That wasn't his name; that would only be his name if he was named in cat-speak, and he _wasn't,_ which sucked for him because he kept having to translate it - into English, or into Cat, or Lizard, or that one time he had to say it in Latin. It would be dishonest to say his name was something other than what it was, and even doing it left a foul taste on his tongue, so Owl was good enough for the moment. (His name was something along the lines of _feathers that fall from an owl while in flight simply because the wind hit the wings the wrong way_ , which was a mouthful in every language _but_ bird-speak.) He kept hoping he would find a name that didn't end up spat out as if he were a freak, but no matter which species he went to, his name always seemed to be a bad thing.

He'd chosen Owl before, so he knew the name wasn't it. Still, though, he liked the way it sounds, even if he didn't like the taste of it as it forced it's way out of his mouth.

"Can I leave?" Bluefeather was still looking at him like he was going to attack her, so he made a show of slipping his claws back into.. well, wherever they went. "I need to go back to where I was." He didn't mention he was talking about RiverClan, but he suspected she already knew, seeing as he told her directly that he'd been in RiverClan. He was sure that he'd gotten back to the camp, but tire still shadowed his eyes, and he knew not to trust himself when he was.

"Sorry." She didn't sound it. "Fernstar says you gotta stay here until he can speak to you, and that won't be for awhile, so you may as well get yourself comfortable. He says you smell strange."

"Thanks," he responded drily, grinning coldly at her. "Can I at least go into the camp?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood up, still wobbly on his pale brown paws, and made his way to the exit. There was something that looked like a system to keep him inside the den, but he dug his claws into the dirt and brought it down until there was a path of sloppily-made stairs in front of him. He could hear a voice, but the light was finally warming him up, so he continued into the clearing.

And _dear god, was that a lot of smells._

RiverClan mostly smelled like fish, but ThunderClan had lots of different smells; different food to eat, and different cats, and different flora. He tried his best to close his mouth and not breathe, but scent still leaked up his nose, making it wrinkle in disgust. Everyone was staring at him here, too, but he paid it no mind - They had basically kidnapped (cat-napped?) him and he didn't need to impress any of them. He recognised some of the elders, vaguely - the gatherings he'd had with them had been pleasant, though he doubted they recognised _him_ now. (Had he told them he was a shape-shifter?) He raised his tail to Nightpaw (or, well, something else) respectively and smiled, this time with warmth.

Confusion leaked off of every cat, and hostility off of even more, both tangible and thick in the air around him, but Nightpaw beckoned him into the den and he happily obliged, his ears pointed forward. He sat down on what he knew was the most comfortable bit of moss, ignoring the grumbles of annoyed protest and gazing up at each of them in turn. They looked so old, sitting there, and he tried to keep it in his head that they were even younger than he was.

"Nightpaw, Wavepaw, Birchtail, and Swallowpaw! Hey, buddies." From the look on their faces, they weren't expecting that - he doubted calling them young was flattery here, but he honestly didn't know any of their names. "It's- well, not the same _me,_ but. uh. Featherwind." _Talking was the dumbest thing anyone ever invented, ever,_ he thought distantly, wincing.

"Featherwind had black fur," Nightpaw told him coldly, "and was older than us. Are you his kit?"

Owl blinked his amber eyes placidly. "I have the same eyes as me," he said, and that sounded even worse than his introduction. "Did I not tell you I was a dd- a shape-shifter? Oh, uh- please don't tell anyone. That's not the reason I'm here, this time."

Nightpaw still didn't look convinced. " _He_ did mention it, but he was a cloud-brain. You look absolutely nothing like him, except for the eyes. Did he send you here, kit?"

 _Kit!_ He hummed to himself softly, wondering why Bluefeather hadn't intervened. "No, Nightpaw, I didn't send me here. I could tell you whatever I wanted about your apprenticeship - like, did you know I followed you from the border that one time you snuck into the woods, and I hated you guys' _killing_ thing so much I scared the biggest vole I'd ever seen away from you? And then I left one halfway onto your territory so you'd find it trapped."

"Nighteye," he corrected. "And.. I do remember that, but that couldn't have been Featherwind, because there was no scent."

"Do you scent me now?" He knew that he smelt a lot less than the other clan cats, even with a powerful nose, because he didn't need to mark his territory and smelling just wasn't _useful_. "Yeah. Exactly. You don't have to believe me, I just wanted to say hi," he finished, and he took a long look at each of them one last time, a zoned-out curiosity dancing in his eyes. "So. Hi, and farewell, and good luck."

He tried not to leave threateningly, but he could feel power fixated on him, so he turned around slowly to figure out who it was. The cat was sitting in a large den, his paws crossed in front of him, and there was something eerily familiar about the way he had settled. His gray fur, even in the breeze, was groomed down until it looked wet, and his whiskers were pinned against his face like he was trying to slip through somewhere. A sense of trepidation flew down his spine - he guessed this was the thudding in his head, which had only grown louder.

There was _no way_ that cat was.. well, just a cat.

Owl turned around and, ignoring all the sounds around him, bolted out of the clearing. He forced his legs to grow longer and his lungs to let in more air, and he focused on the ground so he wouldn't trip over these _stupid_ roots in front of him, the trees becoming a jittering blur. His paws hurt, because he doubted they'd ever touched a single rock, and his chest burned with air that felt too cold. He sucked in a breath desperately, veering towards the river and trying to lengthen his strides.

He slowed down before he fell, digging his claws into dirt and mud, and stumbled into the river on the border, swimming as fast as he could and ignoring the way that the currents pulled at his fur and sucked him down to the bottom. Even as a human, he hadn't swum in ages - his house didn't have a pool, and the rivers nearby were almost as icy as this one. (The thought itself brought him memories that struck him, so he tried not to think about them and to instead focus on the coldness of his fur. His claws desperately outstretched, he breached the other side, fur dripping and whiskers pointed down. His stomach was heaving, but they wouldn't follow him - this was clearly not their territory, and even being here, Owl felt comfort settle around him. He flicked his tail goodbye to the ThunderClan warriors, also panting, who were staring after him. They didn't know how to deal with someone who wasn't taught like them, he knew, so he kept on towards camp without running or speed-walking, trying to stop or slow the steady shaking of his body.

The woods around him were cold, but the trees split the wind before it reached him, and he guided his paws to leaves so that his sensitive pads didn't freeze. He tried to pinpoint where camp was, but he'd been in the other camp for almost a day, probably, and if he was honest exhaustion was doing much more on him than he had expected it to. He wasn't sure whether it was the growing of his legs or the running, but all he could do was keep walking and hope he was going in the right direction, calling out in cat-speak, then bird-speak, just in case one of them knew where it was.

In the end, he didn't run into any patrols, just stumbled through the bushes on the way into camp and collapsed right there, breathing heavily. He didn't pass out - he'd been tired too many times to do that - but he couldn't bring himself to stand, so he let himself be carried away somewhere that was hopefully dry and warm. He knew that Driftpaw was speaking to him, but he grunted in response when it was enough, and if it wasn't, gave her clipped, one-word answers.

 **Okay, let's be honest - I'm probably not going to come back to this until I have another bout of the Nostalgias. I'm sorry, I just don't know how to write about cats anymore, and I want to do something specifically with the shapeshifter breed, as well as a whole lot of other stories I want to focus on. Besides, I barely have time ( :( ) to write anymore if it's not for school.**

 **Seriously, though, thanks for reading and sticking with me and stuff, because it honestly means so much to me that people like reading my stuff, so. yeah! thanks lmao**

 **-j**


End file.
